


Bucky’s Cold

by Anne_Autumn



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Caretaking, Dom/sub Undertones, False Starts, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, Just a little Awkward, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, thigh fucking, two stubborn not yet soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Autumn/pseuds/Anne_Autumn
Summary: “I’m hot enough already, God, I can’t even look at that.”“Sit up, you baby. The whole point of you being on the couch is to keep sitting up.”“Ghh,” is all the protest that Bucky can muster. He doesn’t move.Steve puts the bowl down and nudges at Bucky’s arm. “Come on, lift up.”“No.”“You stubborn ass,” Steve retorts as he pulls at Bucky. “I’ll feed this to you if I have to.”





	Bucky’s Cold

Bucky was sick. 

It wasn’t polio or scarlet fever (if Steve could even get that again), but even a cold could be enough to take out Steve’s heart or turn into pneumonia. So Bucky had stayed away for a whole three days, but now on day four he officially couldn’t fight off Steve anymore. Steve was desperate to get back at Bucky for all of his mothering tendencies, not wanting to waste a moment of the rare opportunity. 

The early summer heat wasn’t helping Bucky’s puddle feeling as he dozed in and out of consciousness on their worn couch. Bucky sunk down as Steve came out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl of broth, groaning and burying his face in the lumpy cushions. 

“I’m hot enough already, God, I can’t even look at that.” 

“Sit up, you baby. The whole point of you being on the couch is to keep sitting up.”

“Ghh,” is all the protest that Bucky can muster. He doesn’t move.

Steve puts the bowl down and nudges at Bucky’s arm. “Come on, lift up.”

“No.”

“You stubborn ass,” Steve retorts as he pulls at Bucky. “I’ll feed this to you if I have to.”

Steve gets Bucky sitting up, but he immediately starts to slink back down the moment Steve leaves him. Steve catches him, sits down and presses his back against Bucky’s to keep him upright.

Bucky’s stubborn routine usually eggs Steve on, making him dig in and push back, but Steve’s having a hard time determining just how much Bucky is playing all this up. 

“I think room temperature broth is going to be worse than hot broth, Buck.”

“I’ll risk it,” Bucky replies as his head leans towards Steve. His neck is bent in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable and that doesn’t quite come into contact with Steve’s shoulder. 

Bucky’s scratchy breath slows as he falls to sleep. Steve balls up the nearby blanket into a makeshift pillow, shifting so that Bucky’s own weight pulls him down onto his lap. The temperature’s hot enough to peel paint, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He’s enamored by Bucky’s beauty, even now. His hand brushes Bucky’s hair back, away from his forehead and trails his fingers down Bucky’s cheek. Bucky stirs and Steve freezes, but Bucky’s eyes remain closed. Steve panics, fearing he’s crossed a line and is now stuck underneath a sick and delirious Bucky.

“Steve?” Bucky mumbles.

“Yea?” Steve replies, making sure to keep his voice smooth and soft.

“Love you,” Bucky continues, still seemingly asleep. 

Steve chuckles silently, sure that his friend means it in the way he loves his sister or anyone else in his family. But Steve still takes a beat to enjoy the words washing over him, falling out of the lips of the man he’s loved for years. He bends down to kiss Bucky on the forehead, whispering the words back. 

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. Now sleep.”

Steve pulls the worn copy of Galactic Patrol from underneath Bucky and begins to read to distract himself from his thoughts and to keep his hands to himself. 

\---

Bucky wakes to Steve’s snoring. The familiar sound cutting through the sharp pain in his head and a boulder in his stomach. He leans up as slowly as he can as to not wake Steve. It’s late, but Bucky has an antsy feeling he can’t shake. He needs to get out, to get some air. 

He takes a swig of the broth left on the table in attempt to cut the thickness in his mouth and throat. It tastes awful, but he’s also eaten worse things Steve’s made him before. 

He steps onto the fire escape, lighting a cigarette as he goes and sliding down the outside wall to look out at the city. 

What is he missing? 

He hates being sick and how he’s forced to stay still for long periods of time. But this is something more than that. There’s still something he is missing.

He worries his lip as he is lost in thought, trying to remember. 

He said something to Steve. 

Realization blooms. He told Steve he loved him. 

But surely it was a dream...? It always was - it definitely was this time, because he can feel Steve saying it back to him. 

It’s been a long time since Bucky thought about the fact that he loved Steve. When they were younger, still in school, Bucky had been consumed by it. He was sure Steve would find out and he’d lose him forever. But now it had been long enough that Bucky had gotten very good at walking the line. He knew how much he could touch Steve without getting too excited. Knew how far he could push and tease him about girls without making himself jealous. Knew how long he could watch Steve from a distance without others starting to notice. His love was a constant throb, always thrumming along in the background, behind his eyes, never to be spoken about or acted upon. 

But now it was front and center. Probably because this damn cold frayed his willpower past the point of sanity. And he loves Steve, who is going to leave him soon, one way or another. 

The lump in his throat expands, his eyes prickle. 

What the hell is he going to do without Steve? 

Bucky buries his face in his arms.

“Feeling good enough for a smoke, I see,” comes Steve’s voice above him. “I know the docs prescribe these things for everything, but they’ve never seem to help me feel better when I’m at my worst.”

Bucky looks up at him. Up at Steve, who seems to be glowing, surrounded by moonlight. Bucky can’t seem to say anything in response, just keeps his glazed eyes on Steve, whose undershirt is clinging tight to his chest… Bucky’s brain clicks back in and he forces his eyes back up to Steve’s face to see if he’s noticed Bucky’s gawking. Steve meets his eyes and his expression softens, looking questioningly at Bucky. A vulnerability and straightforwardness Steve rarely shares with him anymore. 

“What is it, Buck?”

“I love you.”

Steve’s heart is racing. His mind is blank.

“Okay. I love you, too,” he says flatly, automatically. 

Bucky’s up on his feet. His body is thrumming, shivering, but he doesn’t advance on Steve. “I don’t mean it like a brother.”

Bucky looks down at the grate beneath him, terrified to look at Steve. Terrified of what he’ll see.

Steve closes the distance between them. He looks up at Bucky, bringing his hand to Bucky’s cheek.

“Me, too,” Steve whispers.

Bucky wants to kiss him. Wants to pick him up and take them back to their room and push their beds together. Bucky feels better, but he could literally kill Steve if he gets him sick.

“I want to kiss you,” he tells Steve.

Steve lurches up towards him, pecking his mouth before Bucky turns away. 

“You goddamn idiot. We can’t. I’m not going to be able to stop and it's going to be terrible in so many ways.”

Steve doesn’t want to wait. He can’t believe Bucky feels anything remotely close to what he feels. Bucky’s not drunk, he seems to be in his right mind, but he also wouldn’t blame Bucky if he feels differently in the morning. Steve will take anything Bucky’s willing to give, even if it's just a few hours of necking or…

“Okay. No kissing. Follow me,” Steve demands. 

Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, but follows. 

Steve leads them to their room and sits on the edge of his own bed. 

“Stop there,” he commands to Bucky. 

Bucky’s hands twitch. 

“Take off your clothes”

“Steve, no, we…”

“We aren’t going to touch each other.”

Bucky looks relieved and disappointed. He warily begins to take off his undershirt and pants. He stands there, naked.

“How are you feeling? You need anything?”

Bucky shakes his head but doesn’t speak, lump in his throat. 

“Touch yourself. Show me what you want.”

Bucky doesn’t move. 

“What do you think about when you’re alone?”

Bucky sighs and confesses, “you.”

Bucky continues, “One night, right after we got this place, I got home late. Was trying not to wake you when I came in. But you weren’t asleep. You were in here, in your bed, moaning and touching yourself. You must have been loud enough that you didn’t hear me come in. Or maybe you were laying on your good ear. I don’t know. But I was so turned on when I heard you and I knew that I stunk of booze and could pretend not to hear you. So I just fell into bed, clothes and all. You made the prettiest noise when you came - I nearly came myself. Thank god for whisky dick. I felt horrible for thinking about it. But I jerked off to that muffled noise you made for weeks… I’m sorry.”

Bucky is fully hard, but he feels ashamed. He feels small, exposed, and somehow cold in the sweltering summer heat. 

Steve is red all over, undeterred by Bucky’s guilt. He reaches over to his bedside for vasiline, tossing it to Bucky who opens it and coats his palm. 

“I remember,” Steve finally replies. “It’s you that made me come. You in the room there with me. You catching me. I was thinking about you and then suddenly you were there. I imagined your sloppy, drunk mouth around my cock. Jesus it got me there.”

Bucky stands there stunned. 

“Show me how you do it,” Steve orders. “Show me.”

Bucky grasps his cock, as he’s been told. 

“Stevie, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want you to touch me, everywhere, with every part of you.”

“Fucking show me.”

He runs his hand up and down his shaft at a quick pace, twisting as he comes up to the head of his dick. He stumbles backward as he imagines Steve closer, on his knees in front of him. He cups his own balls with his other hand and reaches behind them to rub the space between them and his asshole as he continues to thrust his fist over his cock. He rubs the space and shivers at the sensation.

“Your mouth, Steve. I want your mouth on me here, but also…”

Bucky moves his hand from his taint around the back of him, spreading his cheeks and rubbing a rough finger along the rim of his hole. 

Steve bristles. Urgently wanting to join Bucky. But he doesn’t move, other than the quickening of his chest rising and falling. 

Bucky’s still fucking into his fist, but swipes some vaseline that has built up at the base of his cock in order to lube a finger. He returns it to his hole, playing and probing. His clutches his eyes closed as his finger breaches his hole. 

Bucky is slightly ashamed at his admission and vulnerability. He worries he’s gone too far. “Steve?”

“Hmmm?” Steve hums. 

Bucky opens his eyes to see Steve’s eyes locked on him. He’s flushed and looks feverish, mouth agape and eyes glassy. 

“Am I doing okay?”

Steve nods. Regaining some composure and asks, “You thinking about me back there? My tongue in your ass?” He’s eyes are boring into Bucky’s. 

Bucky’s forehead scrunches up. He keeps his eyes locked on Steve as a breathy “Steve ” escapes his lips. The thought of it - of Steve nipping and licking at his entrance. He crumples inward, breaking their gaze, come shooting out and escaping through his fingers, as he continues to thrust his fist and the finger in his ass. 

“Steve. Steve. Steve. I want you,” Bucky whispers, as much to himself as to Steve. 

Steve’s fingers press hard into the edge of the bed, keeping him from jumping up to catch Bucky as he stumbles from the power of his orgasm. 

Bucky falls to his knees and sways there for a moment, eyes still closed. 

“Steve. Sweet Jesus, what did you do to me?”

“Nothing. I didn’t get to do a goddamn thing to you.”

“How about I do nothing back to you?” Bucky says as his eyes drift open. 

He crawls over to Steve. 

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Bucky says as he pulls down Steve’s shorts and briefs. 

Steve sits, watching Bucky push his legs apart. 

Bucky stares at Steve’s erection. 

Bucky’s thought about this many times. About licking his palm to run it up and down Steve’s shaft. Kissing the inside of Steve’s thighs. But those will keep for later. Right now, he’s got to keep his hands to himself as much as possible. Hell keep his mouth focused on Steve’s dick. 

Bucky runs his tongue under the ridge of Steve’s head, eliciting a groan from Steve as he closes his eyes and tips his head back. Steve involuntarily thrusts up slightly. Taking the hint, Bucky wraps his lips around Steve’s girth, hollowing out his mouth to drop down and rise back up. He’s a little clumsy at first, but he’s been on the receiving end of these and knows, at least theoretically, how they should be done. 

“Bucky,” Steve groans, as he continues to rise and fall. Bucky takes a hand to caress and cup Steve’s balls and Steve lets out a euphoric sigh. But Bucky’s congestion catches up to him, forcing him to pull off of Steve and rest his forehead on Steve’s thigh.“I’m sorry,” he says. 

Steve sits there dazed. He manages to look down at Bucky and swallows slowly around the lump in his throat. No witty comment, no commiserating with Bucky about how many times Steve has been winded before. Just awe at Bucky and at the moment they are sharing. He is able to raise his hand and pet the top of Bucky’s head slowly.

“I’m not sure I can keep going,” Bucky admits. 

Steve is torn in two. To find out that Bucky loves him, feels the way Steve does, has shredded him. He's overstimulated and overwhelmed. 

Bucky is still breathing hard and slow as he peeks an eye over Steve’s thigh. “I have one last idea,” he says dangerously.

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes, when I’m with a girl and she won’t let me put it in, she’ll hold her thighs together real tight. You can hold me down on the bed and push into me that way. Should get you off. Feels damn close to the real thing.”

Coordination. This requires Steve to cobble together some coordination. He’s not sure he can, but the temptation propels him forward.

“Okay.”

Bucky eases up off of the floor, off of Steve. Steve watching the curve where Bucky’s neck meets his shoulders. Then the broad muscular tone of Bucky’s back. 

Bucky lays chest down on the bed, with his feet propped on the floor, legs pushed together and bent slightly. Dick pressed flush against the mattress, ass shuffling back and forth to try and get comfortable. He can’t get quite the right support. 

“Couch cushion, get a cushion to put under my legs.”

Steve comes back to life and jumps up, disappearing to the living room for the briefest of moments. He’s got two of the thin cushions and puts them under Bucky’s knees, bringing them comfortably off the ground enough to push Bucky forward farther on the bed. Steve scans the room for the vaseline, finding it and quickly lubing up his own dick. Bucky is in front of him, his ass slightly raised. 

Steve is in awe, still not quite believing his circumstance, despite the control he was able to take earlier. He’s looking at Bucky, thinking about his next step, and he still doesn’t think the angle is quite right. The edge of the bed, Bucky’s body, his own height.

“I… when you did this with girls… you...” 

_They didn’t have anything up front to get caught on the side of the bed._

Steve sighs. 

He steps away and is back before Bucky is even done whispering his name. He slides a hand under Bucky’s thighs to pivot him further onto the bed and then slides a towel covered pillow under his hips. Bucky’s cock twitches as the towel brushes against him, seeming to be healthiest part of his body. Bucky balls up another pillow under his chest, the anticipation and urge to reach for Steve is overwhelming. 

Steve kneels on the bed, straddling Bucky’s legs. He takes a deep breath, clenching his eyes closed for a moment. He pushes his dick just below the curve of Bucky’s ass, between his tightly clenched thighs, losing his balance and falling onto Bucky’s back. He scrambles up onto his hands, but doesn’t move. Heat is radiating off of Bucky and enveloping Steve’s dick. The tip of his cock is bucked up against Bucky’s balls. 

Bucky remains silent, but wiggles his ass. The slightest gasp escaping from his own mouth as his dick returns to full attention from the friction against the towel and Steve so close at his back. 

The heat in Steve’s gut breaks free, propelling him to pull his cock back along Bucky’s taint. He plunges back in sloppily, tempted by Bucky’s ass, but drunk on the feeling between Bucky’s tight thighs. Bucky wants Steve to use him, so he will. He thrusts back and forth, picking up the pace, finding a rhythm and falling, falling, falling down the well of desire into Bucky. Bucky is here, but he still can’t have him all the way. He continues to thrust, but is stuck in the idea of what else they can do, how else he can have Bucky and how Bucky can have him. He’s yanked out of his head when he hears a growl of an “umf” from Bucky, accompanied by the stiffening of his entire body. The additional pressure on Steve’s dick, coupled by the comprehension that Steve has made Bucky come for a second time, dials up Steve’s pace, thrusting, searching, wanting to mix his come with Bucky’s. 

He tumbles over the edge, the most intense orgasm he has ever had, shaking, and barely remembering their neighbors in time to muffle his howl by digging his teeth into his bottom lip enough that he draws blood. 

He falls on top of Bucky, but rolls away despite the urge to lay on top of him. He wants to cling to Bucky, but knows how far they’ve already pushed things. Bucky seems dead next to him, ass slumped to the side, his head buried in the pillow he had been holding. He doesn’t move. 

“You fell on top of me. I thought you were supposed to be taking care of me?” Bucky says into the pillow. 

Steve brustles at the jab, “It's not my fault your ass is a water slide.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made me jack off in front of you, it wouldn’t have been.”

“I made you come twice, asshole, didn’t even have to put my mouth on you.”

“Hey! _Hey…_ don’t get me excited again. Go take care of yourself in the bath if you have to. Think about what we can do tomorrow.”

“You and your mouth…”

“Stop it, Steve,” Bucky says as he starts to get up. “I’m serious.” 

He wipes himself down with the towel and inspects the rest of the bed. Miraculously they kept everything on the towel. 

“Get out of bed and get washed up.”

Steve grunts in response. “It’s my bed,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Go. Tomorrow. As long as I’m feeling better, I’ll suck you off properly.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Bucky.” 

“Go.”

Bucky falls back into the bed as Steve moves to take the coldest wash possible in the July heat. Bucky’s asleep when he gets out, thank god, although completely naked still and in Steve’s bed. It’s July and he supposed that if Bucky’s not freezing that means he doesn’t have a fever and that he’s well on his way back to full health. 

He picks up the disgusting towel, washing it in the sink and hanging it on the line out the back window. He stays out on the fire escape, attempting to draw the city’s skyline, but his thoughts keep wondering back to Bucky’s mouth. He barely got to feel Bucky’s lips against his own. And tomorrow they’ll be on his dick, bobbing up and down, as he has imagined time and time before, imagined just before he would come all over his own hand - but tomorrow it will be for real. Somehow his dick was mostly full for it already, his adrenaline pushing his weak heart pumping blood to all the right (wrong?) places. He had to get out of there. He checked on Bucky one more time, covering him with a sheet after pawing his own dick to try and settle down. He goes out for a walk in the stifling hot air, the pressure of the humidity slowing his pace and dulling the longing he knew would come roaring back once he stepped back into their apartment. 

One more day. He could make one more day.


End file.
